


Empire of Shadows

by Zenzoa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenzoa/pseuds/Zenzoa
Summary: A novella about two women who face honor, betrayal, magic, and sword fights in a fantastical retelling of a certain classic space opera.





	1. Chapter 1

Solosan's eyes skimmed across the surface of the water, blinking as they hit upon the bright puddles of reflected sunset. The day had been long and successful, with a steady wind pushing her little sailboat far from the familiar shores of Serai. A week ago she'd set forth on her mission, now the longest she'd been away from the Temple of the Order since she'd entered it as a child. Alone at sea, her well-studied knowledge was finally making its creaky way into use. Her muscles, always strong, were now taut and sore. It felt good.

She adjusted the thick layers of her tunic. The wind was cool on her smooth scalp. It was a family trait, not having any hair. But she barely remembered the people who raised her. There was a vague memory of dark hands on her shoulders, a resonant voice telling her to be a good girl. It hardly mattered anymore. The Order was her family now, and the Temple her home. And it was the Order she was going to prove herself to.

She frowned as something intruded on her meditations. An object caught her eye. There, on the horizon, was something that was neither sea nor sky: a ship approaching from the north. She caught the wind to tread a new path. The water was getting red as the sun sank low. The ship kept getting closer. There were too many roads on the open water for two ships to travel the same course—not unless one were pursuing the other.

The pursuer had triple sails that ate up the high winds. Solosan tacked and turned to no avail. The stars emerged in the darkening sky, and the ship closed the distance between them.

She turned around to check her progress. It was already upon her.

Rough letters in the side of that ship spelled out _Morning Hawk_. Beside this were knife-cut notches, the kind pirates used to count their prey. Grappling hooks flew over and sank their teeth into her little boat. Her craft had no name, as the Order tried to avoid such attachments. Even so she felt offended by the damage. Solosan drew her sword and cut the ropes with singular swiftness.

The pirates shouted down to her. A tall, dark-skinned man came to the bulwark, dreadlocks framing his face like a mane. He smiled, and with one jack-rabbit leap, crossed the narrow gap. His sword was drawn before he uncurled, and his grin widened.

"What an honor," he said. "A real Knight of the Order. I do hope that sword's more than a utility knife."

His swagger told Solosan everything—it was easy to parry when he lunged. She struck back, high and heavy. When he lifted his sword to block, she turned in place, stepping beneath his arms to face his undefended back. The tip of her sword followed, swinging around to graze his ribs. A narrow red line bloomed at the edges of his torn shirt. Solosan pushed forward with glancing cuts, keeping him off balance. The smile was long gone from his face. Now it was lined with stress. He stumbled and stabbed, and Solosan danced aside. With a twang, his sword stuck in the decking. He started to pull it out but stopped dead—Solosan rested her blade's razor-thin edge against his wrists.

She looked into his eyes. She expected to see fear there, but instead she saw something that surprised her... Respect? Sadness?

The boat jerked. The pirates were lowering dinghies and attaching them to her boat. They'd run out of grappling hooks, she guessed

"We're run yer through if yer draw another drop," someone growled. "Step away from the Capt'n and lay down yer sword."

There was no way she could fight off a dozen pirates. Not alone. When had the seas turned so dangerous? Or were they always so? She lowered her blade without taking her eyes off the so-called Captain.

The man's smile returned with a vengeance. He squatted to pick up her weapon. "I have no doubt you could kill me, Sirrah Knight. Thanks be to the Order for teaching honor over bloodlust. A Knight of your caliber is quite a catch—we'll get a high ransom off you." He examined his now-tattered clothes and mostly-bare chest, which was covered in old scars and new wounds. "Should even be enough cash to cover my shirt."

His men laughed. "Oh! but I haven't introduced myself. Where are my manners?" Still holding her sword in one hand, he reached out his other. Calloused and dirty. "I'm Drake Excelsior, captain of the _Morning Hawk_ and its triply-fine crew."

Solosan flinched from his hand and narrowed her eyes. "You? You are nothing but slavers and thugs. The Order will have no words with you."

"Really?" Drake shrugged and swung her sword over his shoulder. "That's news to me." His men set about tying her sailboat to the pirate ship, and tied her hands together. "Please enjoy the hospitality of my brig for the remainder of your voyage, Knight." He spat at her feet.

—

"The farmer from Ptera is here to see you, sir," said the secretary, opening the door to the office.

Hamlin walked in, head bowed, fingering the traveler's hat he held to his chest. The room was spare but elegant, with strange artifacts hanging on the walls and decorating the mayor's desk. He was mesmerized by their weaving, symbol-like designs.

"Come in! Come in," said the lanky gray-haired man sitting behind the desk. His eyes tracked Hamlin like a hawk. His voice, though, was friendly enough.

"They told me I should talk to you." Hamlin stepped closer to the desk and forced himself to look into the mayor's eyes. "My village is in a bad way, and no one else will help me."

"Have you spoken with the Order?"

"Yes, of course. They dismissed me." The mayor nodded for Hamlin to continue. "All our best crops are sent to the cities. All our juiciest vegetables, our finest weavings, our most promising sons and daughters—Gone! The only thing we get in return is stale bread. The Knights say everything is distributed evenly, but that's a lie if I ever heard one. The cities get first pick, and the people who do all the hard labor have to pick through their scraps."

The mayor took this in, running his finger along his thin lips in thought. "I have an idea," he said, standing to his full height. "We'll need the help of your fellow Pterans, of course. Go home—I will send word to you soon."

—

Solosan tried to meditate in the darkness. The brig was damp, dirty, and cold, but what was most distracting was the unfamiliar nausea. She had lost sight of the horizon. Her patience wore thin as time passed, punctuated by drifts of drunken shouts and sea songs. The seasickness was only overcome by hunger.

At last a light shown in the hold, an uneasy lantern. It partially illuminated the face of the young woman holding it. She brought over a plate of stale bread and cheese, shoved under the bars of Solosan's prison, and slunk over to lean against the adjacent wall with her arms crossed. Her skin was not quite as pitch-dark as Solosan's, and she had long hair kept in a tight braid to one side. She had a stretched, boyish figure and sharp features, reminding Solosan of nothing so much as a taut bow.

Solosan took the food and nodded thanks over her first bite. It tasted salty. She noticed the young woman eying the plate, so she tore off half of what remained and pushed it back under the bars. The young woman furrowed her brow and eyed Solosan.

"Hospitality," Solosan said.

The woman took the bread and chewed off a hunk. As she finished chewing, she started to laugh. "The prisoners are serving me now. The world's turned inside out here for sure."

"You shouldn't be surprised, milady. I'm a Knight of the Order. 'If we don't climb together, we'll all fall alone.'"

"The Order? My people tell stories about that... a mythical bunch of sorcerers and holy warriors."

"Mythical? Legendary, perhaps. We are very much real. You must be from far away not to have had dealings with us." The woman leaned in. Solosan continued, "The Order runs the largest of the Ten Kingdoms, Serai, and we trade frequently with the other nine."

"Well, I'm not from the Ten Kingdoms," she said. "I'm from the Northern Isles."

"That is far indeed! How did you come to be so far from home?"

"Adventure. That was the plan, anyway. Drake picked me up not far from the end of the ice breaks. I've been stuck on this stupid ship ever since."

"Do not lose heart. Adventure requires adversity. Besides which," she said as she held out her bound hands. "You are yet unbound. Take hope from that, friend."

"What should I call you, then? I'm Erathka. Erathka Raqiva."

"Mine is Solosan Isikara."

"Solosan." She tasted the name. "Is it true what the legends say?" She shifted closer to Solosan, and flickering light of the lantern shone in her eyes. "That the Knights can make water run uphill and bring the dead back to life? That they can defeat a hundred brigands with a single blade?"

"Not quite," Solosan smiled. "Drake has fewer than a hundred brigands, and yet here I am, stuck in his brig. Knights are not sorcerers. We are natural philosophers. We seek the underlying Form of the Universe: all things bound together in a single perfect structure. It is said if we could only understand all of its regularities, harmony would flourish. The Temple in Te'serai has a great library filled with books, explaining how to divert water from its normal course to help grow fruit trees and grains, teaching us how to heal nearly mortal wounds and extend life, and diagramming swordplay techniques that would defeat a master swordsman." Her smile turned rueful. "Just not a hundred brigands."

"Maybe you just haven't perfected them yet."

—

Late the next afternoon, the _Morning Hawk_ found new mooring. Solosan had some idea of where they were: the floating city of Gurdh. It was warren of lashed-together barges that drifted on currents known only to the unscrupulous, a place where smuggled goods, slaves, thieves, and assassins could be bought and sold without oversight.

Erathka came down to the hold. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Solosan tried to greet her, but she put her finger to her lips. Kneeling by the brig's iron gate, she slipped something underneath. A key.

Erathka was halfway up the stairs when Solosan looked to her. "Wait!" She held the key in her palm. "What of your plans to escape?"

"I already tried to escape my fate once. I'd better not anger the gods again."

"You do not need to fear gods. I can show you the light of reason, the power of the Order. Come with me!"

Erathka stood with one foot on the first stair, hesitating. Solosan reached through the bars to the lock, and felt the key turn and click. The gate opened with a metallic creak.

"'Let hope not fade, for the future is unwritten.'"

"You and your aphorisms."

As she said this, one of the crewmen stuck his broad face down the stairs. He stocky and brandishing a heavy falchion. He jumped down to the hold.

"Era! Fer flying sea-serpants! How'd she get out? CAPT—" His shouting was cut off.

Erathka reached out her hand to touch his chest. In a voice clear and low as a prayer bell, she spoke in a strange tongue. But Solosan could not hear what she said—she couldn't hear anything at all. No sea birds, no creaking of the ship's hull, no waves folding upon themselves. Not even her own blood rushing in her veins. Nothing. The word Erathka spoke resonated in her skull, but all that penetrated the air was a spreading, seeping silence.

Then, as abruptly as it began, it ended. Ambient noises rushed in to fill the void. The pirate's face was slack, his eyes unfocused. When Erathka pushed him, he stepped out of her way without protest.

"Come on," she hissed, beckoning. "I guess I'm coming with you after all."

Solosan stared after her for several long moments before she remembered she could move.

—

They ran across the deck and climbed onto the dock. Solosan moved her hand off the sword she had borrowed from the pirate. It was unnecessary, though—they'd a clean escape.

Erathka studied their surroundings. "With a port this big, the city must be immense."

"This _is_ the city," Solosan whispered. "We are in Gurdh. No laws hold here but those of gold and blade. Stay alert."

Voices floated their way. One of them was familiar—Captain Drake's. Solosan and Erathka crouched behind a stack of large crates to avoid being seen by him and his interlocutor. The latter turned out to be a heavily armed, leather-clad woman with a pale complexion and icy blonde hair.

"I don't know why you'd turn down such a lucrative opportunity," she was saying.

"Look, Kelthor, I'm happy taking hostages for ransom. A clear-cut transaction, not as risky. What you're proposing—it just can't be done. It's impossible."

"Aw, you only say that because it hasn't been done before." Kelthor drew one of her many knives, a wickedly serrated one, and gestured with it. "Besides, it's not as though Merchant Guild is the only faction in Serai that's, shall we say, dissatisfied with the Order."

"But attacking Te'serai..." Drake whistled. "That's a fool's errand if I ever heard one."

Solosan let out a gasp. Kelthor's eyes shot over to their hiding place—her knife followed a moment later. Erathka pulled Solosan out from behind the boxes as the knife splintered wood right where Solosan's head had been. They stayed low and dashed into the maze of wharves. Kelthor began to stalk them like a large cat. She gained ground quickly.

Too soon they ran down a pier with a dead end. Large ships lined both sides, making it a narrow, high-walled alleyway. Solosan quieted her mind and readied her weapon. She turned to meet Kelthor. Kelthor pulled out a battle axe that was strapped across her shoulders. Her eyes flashed.

Erathka began to ran at full speed toward Solosan's back. Solosan whipped around. What was she doing? Was she mad? But the instant before they collided, Erathka rotated her center of gravity. Her blurred feet moved from the pier to an adjacent ship until she was running nearly horizontal. She passed Solosan and launched off the hull, ramming herself into Kelthor. The woman fell hard.

Erathka bent over Kelthor and drew one the many knives from her belt. She held it against its master's neck. "Be careful," Erathka said. "I hear this place is full of thieves and cut-throats."

"Oh, child. I know," Kelthor grinned. Her teeth were sharpened to points.

A dozen or more mercenaries popped up from the ships around them. Dressed like Kelthor, and almost as heavily armed. Solosan and Erathka exchanged glances and started running. Kelthor pulled herself off the ground and the mercenaries gathered around her on the pier. With one flick of her wrist, she signaled them to spread out. They began their hunt.

Solosan and Erathka were already out of sight. They hid in a small dock-house, not sure of where else to run. They watched the mercenaries slink by from between wall slats. When the last of them passed, holding a lantern against the deepening twilight, the two of them let out sighs of relief.

A voice came out of the darkness. "What now, Knight?"

They jumped and stared as Drake stuck his head through the window. Erathka tried to open the door, but he it was blocked from the outside with something heavy.

He laughed. "Don't worry your precious heads. I'm not one of Kelthor's men—too cold-blooded for my tastes."

"Too cold-blooded for a slaver? What do you want from us?" Solosan demanded.

"Money, naturally. I notice you don't exactly have a way out of Gurdh. Am I wrong?" Solosan hesitated. "No, of course not. I can take you and your friend back to Te'serai. For a fee," he added smoothly. "Seeing as how I stole all your money, you'll just have to pay me on arrival. But I can trust the word of a Knight, can't I?"

"And how is this any different than holding us to ransom?"

"By my calculations, there's a higher going rate for last-minute transport under duress for two individuals carrying highly sensitive information." He winked.

Solosan clenched her jaw. "The Order does not deal with the dishonored."

Drake's face hardened. "No one else is going to offer you such good terms, Knight. Terms where your _lives_ are thrown in the bargain."

Erathka leaned against the door. "I don't think we have much of a choice, Solosan."

Solosan sighed. "Fine. We will consent to your terms, Drake—but only if you grant this young woman her freedom in Te'serai."

"Freedom? Sirrah, your Order will be buying her like they do all good children." He disappeared from the window and a moment later came to the door, holding it open with a sarcastic bow.

—

Drake did not make trouble for them on the voyage to Te'serai. He avoided them completely. His crew seemed smaller, perhaps convinced by Kelthor's promises of fame and gold. The _Morning Hawk_ was nonetheless swift, and land was sighted within days.

Not just any land, but Te'serai. The city rose up before them, its plaster walls reflected so much light that it nearly blinded those who looked upon it. It was a beacon on the peninsula that was the great Kingdom of Serai. It was built around a half-moon bay that was entirely enclosed, leaving only space enough for two ships to pass at the same time. A pair of tall towers stood on either side of the entrance, keeping watch.

Sprawling from the edges of the harbor up into the surrounding hills, the stacking layers of box-like buildings left no ground visible. Streets and alleys cut through the second story. The only reprieves from the glowing plaster were the fluttering lines of laundry and the feathery-leaved trees rising up from unseen gardens, sprouting even from rooftops.

And then there was the Temple. Rising at the farthest edge of Te'serai, the Temple encompassed the largest of the hills, making it a fathomless emerald among a city of pearls. Its base was encircled by high copper walls. The only traces of inhabitation, at least from a distance, were the tell-tale lacework of arcs rising from the canopy and the central tower of the Council Chamber. The latter's ovoid shape hovered just above the trees, watching over the city below.

"I never knew places like this existed..." Erathka said, squinting through Solosan's looking-glass.

"It is the Order's pride and joy."

Erathka lowered the glass. "It's beautiful, but I have no idea what I'll do there."

"You should seek knowledge—what is adventuring is for if not learning about the world?"

"Learning is well and good, but I want to _do_ something. From what you've said, the Order already has the knowledge stuff covered."

Solosan raised an eyebrow. "Nobody knows everything. You, for instance, have skills and experiences that are unknown to us. We do not know much about the Northern Isles, or your unique fighting style. In fact, I would like to introduce you to the ruling Council."

"Can they make me a Knight?"

"Well... You're a bit old to start the training."

Erathka ignored her. "I could really do something if I were a Knight. I'd have respect, I'd have power..."

"No, Erathka. The Council is strict about this."

She glowered and slumped against the side of the _Morning Hawk_. "Sounds like the Order isn't so open to new ideas after all."

"It is not as simple as that. Being a Knight means devoting oneself to years of hard work and discipline. One must learn to act not from passion, but from reason and logic. One must to dedicate oneself fully to the Order, giving up family and friends. It would be impossible to adapt to that way of life as an adult."

"But I've already done that part."

Solosan titled her head to the side.

"Leaving my family and friends."

Solosan stared at Erathka, then looked away.

Erathka continued, "Anyway, won't they need people to defend the city? We're the ones warning them—it's only fair we should be part of the action." She shifted to look at Solosan directly. "Besides, we make a good team."

"You have some wisdom in you, Erathka." She sighed. "Alright—I will ask on your behalf. If the Merchant Guild is set on their betrayal, they pose a great threat to Te'serai and the whole Kingdom. They have riches enough to buy an army, and we will indeed need every Knight we can get."

 

As they entered the inner bay, snapping mast-flags announced ships from all of the ten kingdoms. Solosan was relieved to see a friendly face at the dock. He was a man nearing middle age stood, with a close-cropped beard and freckled skin. He was carrying a satchel and a Knight's blade. "Sirrah Corval!" she called to him.

"Solosan? Is that you?" He waved. "Only you could go out in a single-handed sailboat and come back with a full ship and crew!"

"It is not as impressive as you make it sound. For what you see, you will have to thank Drake Excelsior."

Drake leaned over the rail to get a good look at Corval. "That's _Captain_ Drake Excelsior. You should thank him, yes. And also pay him handsomely."

Corval squinted up at Drake. Solosan explained, "My expedition did not go as planned. I gained some critical information regarding the Merchant Guild, and I had to rely on some... unconventional means to ensure its delivery."

Corval continued to look bemused, but pulled out a heavy-looking bag of coins from his satchel and tossed it up. "Is that enough? I was supposed to be ordering a month's worth of supplies for the Temple, but it looks like I'll have to make Sol come back to finish my errands tomorrow."

Drake examined the pouch. "I'd say you eat too well up there." Then he loosed the sword from his belt and offered it to Solosan. "Here, the Order is paying me plenty. I don't need the weight of a Knight's blade hanging on my conscience."

Solosan hesitated, but took the sword graciously enough. She climbed down from the ship, with Erathka trailing after her. "Thank you," she called back. "If there was any real kindness under your shrewdness."

"Oh, it's shrewdness all the way down, my friend." With that, he ordered his men to set sail immediately.

—

Corval scrutinized Erathka, as if he were trying to see through to her bones. Finally he nodded, satisfied with her company. The three of them walked through the prosperous harbor city while Solosan recounted their tale. Or perhaps it was Erathka who told it, for she kept interrupting to correct Solosan's account with a less cut-and-dry version of events. She let off only when she nearly tripped over a group of children playing in the streets and then got distracted by a queue of people waiting for food. Officials in crisp uniforms were handing out loaves of bread and sacks of lentils, with no coin changing hands.

Solosan noticed the sudden silence and followed Erathka's gawking. "This must look strange to outsiders," she commented to Corval before explaining. "The Order ensures everyone has the basic necessities. Food, water, and shelter. Grain is collected from farmers and redistributed throughout Serai. No one goes hungry, no matter how unfortunate they may be."

"Or how lazy?"

Corval snorted. "In less civilized kingdoms, nobles and lords hoard supplies and then force everyone else to work for them. You won't find anyone so lazy as that in Serai."

"Then I'm sure your leaders are as quick to give up their power as the farmers are their grain," Erathka said, the muscles in her arms growing taut.

Solosan quickened her pace to walk between Erathka and Corval. "Knowledge gives us a different sort of power," she said, pointedly calm. "We can define power as the measure of one's ability to affect the world. If this is the case, the Order has more power than most. What matters, however, is how we wield it."

"And who is wielding it," said Corval. "We are highly selective in choosing our apprentice Knights."

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less." Erathka strode ahead, leaving him to watch her back.

His brow furrowed. "What did you tell her? Gods, Sol, you know the Order will never break with tradition. Not even Councilmaster Asovan will back you up on this."

Solosan continued walking.

"Are you seriously going to risk your good standing with the Council to vouch for this girl?"

"I believe this girl has some good in her, Corval," she said. "And I strive to use what power I have for good."

—

They approached the high wall that encircled the Temple. It was clad entirely in green, mossy plates of copper. There did not seem to be a gate, but when Corval knocked, the forest rang out in somber metallic tones and the face of the wall split. Erathka looked for the gatekeepers, but there were none. Whatever mechanism controlled the doors was hidden within the walls.

The Temple grounds were acres of forest, cultivated into wildness. The day was overcast and humid, an unfelt breeze bending the upper boughs in a chartreuse dance. The company walked along a wide promenade of tightly jointed stone winding through the undergrowth, with an occasional foot path splitting off and looping out of sight.

The first buildings began to appear out of the groves. They were utterly unlike the boxy dwellings of Te'serai, for these were spindly things, winding around the oldest and largest trees. Some of them were built like trees themselves. Esoteric feats of architecture and engineering made them arc and cantilever, escaping gravity to span the canopies. A scholar-Knight's feet might never touch the ground.

At the crest of the hill was the Council Chamber, the very heart of the Order. A giant skeletal mushroom, it hovered improbably on a series of stacked arches and spiraling stairs, leading to a domed circular room with a pattern of picture windows at its rim. The Council members might even now be sitting in their tall throne-like chairs, their swords at their feet as a symbol of peace. Each had risen to the highest echelons of the Order through their own accomplishments. Each had proven their value to society, and their wisdom in guiding it.

Solosan wondered if her chances of making the Council were any greater than Erathka's chances of becoming a Knight. She dismissed the thought as pointless ambition, unworthy of a Knight of the Order.

Together they followed the stone path until it widened into a series of paved terraces, leading up to the entrance at the tower's base. Corval stopped and turned to Solosan. "Good to have you back, Sol."

"It is good to be back."

They grasped each other's forearms for long moments before finally breaking away. Corval nodded once to Erathka, and left them at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Council Chamber.

—

Light filtered into the room through the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. They depicted famous Knights upholding the Three Pillars of the Order. Knowledge, Integrity, and Loyalty. The councilmembers were present after all, their faces illuminated by of the window scenes of their forebears. The Council was in session.

When Solosan entered, the spry old Councilmaster, Asovan Malka, held up his hand for silence. He wore fine but unembroidered robes of white, a shade to match his magnificent beard. He looked at Solosan fondly through his glass spectacles.

"Apologies, Master Taiquen," he gestured at the tall man presently holding the floor. "Sirrah Solosan has returned from her mission and I sense she brings urgent news."

"Councilmaster Asovan," Solosan said as she stepped forward, taking Taiquen's place. She bowed. "I was waylaid on my journey to negotiate with the Merchant Guild. Yet I fear negotiations would have been futile in any case. 'The wise one follows the river to the sea.'"

"Succinctity is a virtue, Sirrah," Asovan said.

"Ah. Yes, Councilmaster. I have discovered what the Guild truly desires." She took a deep breath. "They intend to conquer Te'serai."

The councilmembers gasped and began to mutter and shout.

Asovan motioned for silence. "What has led you to this conclusion?"

"The Guild is hiring mercenaries," Solosan said. She gave a brief account of what she had seen and overheard in Gurdh to the rapt attention of the Council.

"No enemies have ever set foot in Te'serai!" an elderly council member cried out.

"And they never will," Asovan said. His voice full of authority, as if merely saying so made it true. He removed his spectacles. "This is grave news, Sirrah Solosan. We must consider the implications of what you have told us."

Solosan bowed again, but did not leave the center.

Asovan raised an eyebrow. "Is there another matter you wish to bring before the Council?"

Solosan waved Erathka forward. "We owe my information, and my life, to this young woman. She has shown exceptional skill and bravery." She looked around at the councilmembers. "I ask that she be allowed to train as a Knight of the Order."

Erathka stood up straight to face her audience. The entire Council focused on her with a cold, collective stare.

"Ah," said Asovan. His eyes had gone cold. "That is a request we cannot grant you. You know as well as I that a Knight must begin her training before even the first budding of adolescence. The mind must be molded before it has fully developed."

"She never had a chance to be Tested, Councilmaster. Should we deny ourselves new talents just because they do not present themselves to us the most convenient time? Do we not say, 'Judge not the doorway, only the passage?'"

The Council erupted into angry disagreement. Erathka took a step back.

Taiquen came forward, standing next to Solosan, and held up his hand.

"Dear members of the Council. I know I am not a Knight, and this may be beyond my purview. But as Mayor of Te'serai, I speak for the people. I have gained their respect,and I hope I have earned yours as well."

He cleared his throat to quell the last remnants of discussion. "Not all who wish to become Knights pass the Trial, it is true. And some that pass... are unenthusiastic at the prospect of Knighthood. There are few Knights these days. With evil drawing close upon us, it seems that this eager individual should be given the same chance as any child in Serai. Let her take the Trial."

The discussion began again in earnest. Asovan merely steepled his fingers and gazed at Erathka, absorbing the arguments around him like an ocean absorbing rain. At last he spoke, and in the wake of his voice all others gave way.

"Erathka Raqiva. You will be allowed to participate in the Trial of Potential."

Erathka broke into a grin.

He continued. "If you should pass, I require only this: The one to take you as their apprentice should be the one who vouched for you in the first place. Which is to say, Sirrah Solosan Isikara."

Erathka beamed at Solosan. Solosan turned pale.

—

"I had not considered that I would be taking on an apprentice. Usually a Knight has much more experience. We are hardly a decade apart in age."

"I won't be any trouble, promise," Erathka reassured her. "Besides, if I don't pass this Trial thing, you could be off the hook. If it's even possible to fail a test designed for toddlers."

"It is not a test of your skill. It is a test of your potential."

"Still—will you be around to cheer me on?"

"Only the examiners are allowed to observe." Solosan looked distracted.

"You don't think I'll pass, do you!"

"I never said that. The Trial is designed to determine who has the physical and mental acuity to become a Knight. You should take it seriously and focus. We cannot predict the results, only accept them when they come." After a pause, she put her hand on Erathka's shoulder and added, "You will be fine, whatever happens. I will still be your friend."

As they approached the bottom of the stairs, they saw Taiquen waiting. Taiquen was not tall, large, or youthful, but he had a vivid presence like a coiled snake. And his gaze was like that of a hawk.

"Master Taiquen Roth, Erathka Raqiva. Taiquen is Te'serai's mayor." Taiquen bowed as she introduced him.

"Master Taiquen," Erathka bowed back.

"It is good to meet you, Erathka. Might I accompany you to the Trial?"

Erathka glanced at Solosan, who paused before nodding. "Go ahead. I have something I need to research in the library anyway. Thank you, Master Taiquen." Only then did Solosan bow, before turning to leave.

Taiquen stood a moment before Erathka. "The Order will teach you to take things in stride. But my own philosophy is different: forge your own destiny and follow it." He gestured for her to follow, and began walking. "Let us all see what you are made of."

—

The Trial was over. Erathka was sure she had failed. Expressionless examiners herded her through a series of underground chambers with a dozen small children in tow, children who were either determined in their listlessness or aggressively energetic. Each chamber contained some exercise, game, or puzzle, abstracted beyond all alignment with real life. She sat for hours moving shapes around only to be asked to balance on small rounded stones for more hours. When she emerged from the last chamber, she blinked at the bright light of the late afternoon sun.

Taiquen was waiting for her. They walked together in silence for a time.

"I think Asovan was just trying to humiliate me," Erathka said at last.

Taiquen nodded, but not in agreement. "It is a difficult experience."

"Did you fail the Trial, too?"

"No. I might well have, given the chance, but I was born outside Serai. My homeland is part of the Kingdom now, but I was already a young man when the local lords were overthrown. Even so, I discovered that many people do go on to be honorable, worthy people in their own right quite apart from the Order."

Erathka, far from placated, looked like she wanted to hit something.

"Come. We are near the Te'serai Armory. I find there's nothing better to take my mind off my worries than watching a good fight practice."

The Armory was a large terraced arena in the heart of the city, home to the local militia. Taiquen and Erathka stood on the sidelines near the racks of equipment, from where they could see an intense sparring match. The contestants fought with more momentum than grace with their heavy metal chest plates and face-covering helmets. Compared with the light, flexible padding worn by Solosan and the other Knights, these were animate boulders.

Still, the staccato rhythm of the battle entranced Erathka. One militiaman dominated, always finding openings and pressing his advantage with sure and fluid movements. His opponent became stilted and sluggish. In minutes the less skilled militia member sank to his knees and lay his sword down in defeat.

The winner saw Erathka, enthralled. He beckoned her onto the field. When she hesitated, he held out the losing sword hilt-first as an offering.

"What, another member of my fan club?" he called, voice muffled in his helm. "I thought you might be a real fighter, not like this loser!" He kicked at his erstwhile opponent, who stumbled off the field, tossed Erathka his helmet.

Erathka's eyes flashed. She caught the helmet and accepted the sword. "I'm no fan—you're on."

Her peripheral vision was blocked, and Erathka struggled to parry his moves. He took advantage: a feint followed by a lunge. She tried to deflect it upwards, and his sword caught her helmet. It went flying. The militiaman withdrew to let her retrieve it.

Instead, she flew at him. He pulled himself together just fast enough to parry. Erathka was getting used to the blade now. Without her helmet, she could see what was coming. She twisted his attacks to her advantage and pushed him to the very edge of the terrace.

He parried one last attack, then stepped off the field. He jumped onto an adjacent roof. She followed. They danced across the rooftops, disturbing the inhabitants of Te'serai with a thunder of footsteps and flashes of steel.

Her opponent turned and stood his ground above a busy marketplace. Erathka threw down a crushing blow, but in the last instant he dodged out of the way. The momentum of the attack threw her off balance. She teetered on the edge, grabbed onto his leg. They both went tumbling into the busy street below.

They hit the awning of a market stall. It broke under their combined weight, collapsing into tangled fabric and broken wood. Erathka, at least, rolled to a stand. But the militiaman was lying in a moaning heap of splattered vegetables. She considered him amidst broken crates and ruined produce, bemused customers and horrified merchants. She barked out a laugh and put out her hand.

"Nice trick at the end there," she said. "I thought I had you beat."

She helped him to his feet, and he pried off his helmet. He shook free a head of dark curly hair and face that was olive-toned and smudged with armor polish. He was young, about the same age as Erathka. "I don't know what you're talking about. You, at least, landed on your feet," he said. "The name's Bryer, by the way. Bryer Delain."

"Erathka Raqiva." She picked up her sword from the wreckage of the stall. "Era's fine, though."

"Good fight, Era. Our mutual vanquishment is worthy of story and song, by the looks of it." He beamed at the crowd of people gathering around them. Erathka reddened a little when she noticed the extent of the audience.

Then Bryer started to sing.

"What the stars are you doing?" she hissed.

He shrugged. "Te'serai is a city renowned for the arts!"

Erathka rolled her eyes, and began squeezing through the crowds.

Taiquen was at the end of the market street. Gods knew how he got there so fast. "I think you lost something," he said, dangling her helmet from a long finger.

"Master Taiquen, I can explain—"

"You have talent, Erathka. Knight or no, Te'serai needs people like you."

Behind her, Bryer was still singing to the market-goers. Erathka cleared her throat. "Thank you, Master Taiquen."

"Now then, let us try to convince our Captain of the Militia, Master Delain over there, to forgo any encores. Maybe he can show you around the city. I think I can smooth things over with those merchants you landed on, but it will be a touch easier if you two are out of the way."

—

Erathka hugged her knees and stared out to the horizon, ignoring the food that Bryer had set out for them. "I've failed the Trial. And now the city hates me."

"They don't hate you, Era. I make a fool of myself all the time, and they still thank me for tracking down their lost shoes and scaring the living daylights out of thieves and thugs."

Erathka glared at him. "And your singing, too, no doubt."

"I can't help that I have the heart of a poet!" He sat for a minute looking at the cityscape with her. They were sitting in an overgrown terrace garden, abandoned long ago to wild roses and feathery grass. It must have been too much of a climb for anyone to bother tending it.

Bryer sighed. "You don't know how lucky you are, you know that?"

She frowned at him.

"I wanted to be a Knight more than anything as a kid. But I figured out that wasn't my fate before my baby teeth were all out." He took a long sip from a bottle of spring wine before handing it to Erathka.

"Really?"

"At the time, it was awful. I wanted to help people. Be a hero." He laughed softly at himself. "A big damn hero."

She took the wine this time. "But now you're Captain of the Te'serai Militia. That seems pretty heroic. More than I'll ever be. Knight or no." She took a long drink from the bottle.

"The militia means I have a city to defend instead of an entire Kingdom. It makes me seem more successful by comparison—because people can see the good I'm doing, even if I'm not doing as much. Besides, most of what the Order does is behind the scenes." He signed and lay back on the dewy grass. "But who knows. The Trial might have been right after all. I'd have hated being cooped up in the Temple, going to far-flung provinces just to negotiate with slimy politicians. It's not all glory and glamour, you know. Did your Knight friend tell you that? They're discouraged from having hobbies, and forbidden from taking lovers. Boring as all hell."

"No lovers?" She raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're taking advantage of your freedom then."

"What, you think this charm comes naturally?" He flourished a ripe plum and bit into it, the juices trickling down his wrist. "It takes constant practice."

Erathka swallowed deeply from the wine. Maybe she was hungry after all.

"And what would you do, Era, if you were a Knight?" he said as he offered her the rest of the plum.

She bit into it while it was still in his hand, and licked the juices off his wrist. She looked at him and flashed her teeth. "I'd make sure the whole world knew my name."

Bryer raised an eyebrow at her. She leaned forward and stopped an inch from his face. His eyelashes fluttered closed, and he tilted forward until their noses touched. She inhaled the smell of sweet wine and fragrant plum on his lips.

She pressed her lips to his.

"I'm not going to let someone else decide my fate for me," she said, and kissed him again.

—

Erathka was barely conscious. Her cheek was on the cool fabric of her pillow. She flexed her arm to confirm that it was in fact lying across Bryer's chest. Daylight was calling, but she just buried her face deeper into the linens. She had just about dozed off again when she heard shouts from outside.

One of the militia pounded on the door, rousing Bryer. "What's the emergency?"

"Captain Bryer, sir," the young woman nodded in acknowledgement as she entered to give her report. "The Seed Hall is under attack. The assailants appear to be from the Ptera province."

"Damn. I knew those bitter farmers would cause trouble sooner or later." Bryer was already pulling on his pants. The militiaman ignored Erathka. "Signal the troops—I want every militiaman, on-duty or off, surrounding the Seed Hall before this thing becomes a fully fledged riot. Damn, damn, damn!"

"Yessir," she said, already grabbing a slender horn from her belt. A moment later, the horn's staccato notes were blasting across the barracks. They were soon joined by fainter echoes of the same pattern across the city.

Erathka rolled out of bed and threw on her clothes. She had to run to catch up with Bryer. They threw on weapons and armor—though Erathka eschewed the armor—and caught up with the militiamen and Knights already in the fray.

The building itself was a sort of giant ornamental granary. Graceful curves and solid beams from ancient trees, it rose to a tapered peak like the base of a flower. It stood with quiet power in the middle of a large open square. Or it would have done, if the square were occupied by a violent skirmish.

Erathka saw Solosan across the plaza. They caught each other's eyes. Solosan was with the other Knights, disarming the farmers and using their swords for intimidation. It was only a matter of time before the mob was quelled.

But time was not on their side. One man broke away from the mob and bounded straight towards the Seed Hall. His traveler's hat fell to the ground as he ran. He held a lit torch.

The farmers created a wall of people too thick to cut through between the Knights and the arson. Solosan tried to maneuver into the crowd, but two broad men stepped in her way. They swung large blacksmith hammers. She jumped back.

"Take him down!" Solosan called out.

Erathka got the message. The crush of people wouldn't pose much of a problem to her. She scrambled up the nearest wall to the balcony above, and swung hand-over-hand across the metal railing. She leapt to a windowsill, to an overhang, to a parapet. Her movements were like a jumping spider. Several farmers tried throwing things at her, but they clattered against the walls behind her.

She saw the torch-bearer was at the entrance to the Seed Hall. Erathka leapt to the sloping sides of the Seed Hall itself. She slid down and landed inches from his face. The man reeled. She knocked aside the torch and kicked him to the ground. She drew her sword and pointed it at him.

"What kind of an idiot tries to burn down the food supply, huh?" He ignored her. She kicked him in the ribs. "Well?"

"One who thinks the Order is a bunch of greedy bastards," he said, and spat in her face.

She growled and raised her sword.

"Wait!" someone grabbed her arm. It was Solosan. "Not this way, Era."

"Why."

"The Order must judge him. Not you alone."

"I'll bet they judge him unfit to live," Erathka said. She stepped away.

Bryer ran up to them. He snuffed out the torch on the stone, and led the farmer away, arms bound. As the militia cleared away the rebels, the plaza returned to a semblance of order.

—

Solosan stepped into the Seed Hall. Erathka followed. The walls were covered in a honeycomb of cabinets with thousands of tiny drawers, each carefully labeled. It was cool and dark. The only light coming from a few offset, mesh-covered windows near the top of the dome. It made a circle of brightness on the earthen floor. Solosan put out her hand, fingers twining through the sunbeams.

"This is our most precious possession," Solosan whispered, almost to herself. "These seeds, a hundred years' work. These are what tie Serai together. These are what we trade for the farmers' bounty: a promise. A promise of a harvest that will survive wind, frost, drought, and flood. A promise to feed the entire Kingdom."

Erathka shuffled her feet at the edge of the room. "You should have just let me kill him."

"For all I have learned, I never seem to understand ordinary people." She let her hand drop to her side. "Why do they hate? Why do they kill? It is better to rise above that, Era." She stepped forward into the glow, looking up at the dome. "'Only from a distance can the mountain be viewed.'"

—

Solosan and Erathka stood again on the floor of the Council Chamber, surrounded by wizened men and women. This was an emergency Council session, called shortly after the riot.

Asovan asked Erathka to come forward. "Erathka Raqiva, your Trial results are still preliminary. However, your role in preventing the destruction of the Seed Hall was exemplary. Considering also the endorsements of valued members of this community, I have decided to recommend your acceptance as a Knight Apprentice. Let the Council speak!"

"Ay," the Council said in unison. Erathka's eyes went wide. She glanced at Taiquen.

"Now you must swear to follow the Code of the Knights and to uphold the Three Pillars of the Order.Will you swear this oath?"Erathka nodded.

Everyone in the room joined in the recitation. "Knowledge!"

Solosan nudged Erathka, and she willed her tongue to respond. "Knowledge?"

"Integrity!"

"Integrity."

"Loyalty!"

"Loyalty!" She was beginning to feel giddy.

Asovan spoke alone again. "Do you so swear?"

"I so swear!"

"Sirrah Solosan, you will be Erathka's mentor and guide her in the Order. Come forward." Solosan knelt in front of Asovan, then rose as he drew a sword and handed it to her gingerly. She turned around to face Erathka, still holding out the sword. She mouthed "kneel," and Erathka did so. Solosan touched the sword to each of her shoulders, and then to her head.

"Erathka Raqiva, I accept you as my apprentice. This blade is a symbol of your Knighthood: guard it well. Use it in the pursuit of the Three Pillars and the defense of the Order. Rise up and accept your duty."

Erathka stood and took the sword, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Asovan's lip twitched, almost indulging in a smile himself.

He straightened his glasses and gestured for Erathka and Solosan to return to their positions at the edge of the circle. Erathka's knighting ceremony was merely a preamble.

"I want to announce the true purpose for bringing you here today. In light of this morning's incident, I am recommending that we send all available Knights to the farming provinces, where they are to reassure the populace of peace and quell any further rebellions. Let the Council speak."

Before the chorus of "Ay's," Solosan objected. "Wait, Councilmaster. That will leave Te'serai defenseless against the Merchant Guild's attack!"

"It will take the Guild months to gather a force that could even pretend to threaten the city, if that is indeed what they intend to do. We have no reason to suspect that they have the necessary influence or resources at this time, and we have already issued a no-trade decree so they might see reason.

"In the meantime, the Pteran uprising reveals a more imminent threat. If the farmers lose faith in the Order—in our ability to make their lives better!—we need Knights to show them the larger weave in which they are the weft. We cannot allow the Kingdom to be unraveled from within."

Taiquen took a step forward. "It is only unraveling because _you_ have not taken the outer provinces seriously. They have come to you with grievances before now, have they not?"

"Yes," Asovan sighed. "It was mistake not to take a more hands-on approach with their re-education. It is not too late to rectify the problem, of course, but we must act before news of the Seed Hall incident incites them to further violence."

Taiquen nodded concession. "Yet the Merchant Guild also threatens violence. Forgive me, Councilmaster, but that is not something a handful of Knights can talk their way out of. Let me help. I know a way to defend the Order." His voice sounded like it had to travel a long way to reach his mouth. "As a young man, I traveled across the sea. I was a directionless young man seeking to find myself. I'm not sure I ever found what I was looking for, but I did find something infinitely more valuable: a city of the Ancients." The room grew restive. "No, they are not a myth! We tell stories of that ill-fated empire, but I assure you, they truly did exist once. Their city still exists, empty of all but ghosts. There, alone in a place lost to the sands of time and the memory of human beings, I learned of their magic. Magic capable of defeating an army."

No one spoke. A heavy silence clung to the room.

Solosan broke the spell. "Master Taiquen, the Ancients destroyed themselves with their magic. That is what the stories say, anyway, if they are to be believed. Why should we trust in something so violent?"

"Indeed, powerful magic must be wielded by expert practitioners, lest it get out of hand. Not unlike your blade, Sirrah Solosan. Yet I believe I have studied it well enough. I can keep our enemies at bay."

"Even if this power does exist," said Asovan, "the Order only harnesses the powers of Nature, powers we can understand and control. It would be playing with wildfire to attempt to use the Ancients' magic. We would get burned."

Taiquen's face darkened. "You cannot always learn from the safety of books, Councilmaster. But very well. Ignore this at your peril." He stepped back to his place at the edge, leaving the center of the Council Chamber hollow.

Asovan studied him before speaking to the room. "The Knights Apprentice and their mentors shall remain at the Temple to complete their training. Combined with the Militia, who performed most admirably today, Te'serai should be safe indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

The first frost covered every crinkling leaf and blade of grass with a rim of white crystal. It shattered and crunched softly underfoot as Erathka crept across the terrace to one of the dormitories. The spires and arches of the buildings and walkways glittered pink and gold with the first brightening of the sky, and she knew she was late. Corval stepped out of a doorway and into her path.

"Sneaking around in the dead of night, Apprentice? Tsk, tsk. No good can come from that."

"It's really none of your business, Sirrah Corval. Aren't you supposed to be gone on your mission by now?"

Corval crossed his arms. "I leave at sunrise. But if you think I'm not going to report these escapades of yours—yes, I know this isn't your first—you'd be mistaken. You may have won your apprenticeship with luck and some fancy acrobatics, Erathka, but it will take more than that to prove you're a real Knight." He leaned in until his nose was almost touching Erathka's. "And not everyone here thinks you have what it takes."

Erathka flushed. She shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backwards. His mouth fell open, and she spoke before he could protest. The air reverberated with that clear bell of her voice, so transparent as to be non-existent. Upon hearing the silent word, Corval closed his mouth and sank back into himself, suddenly calm and complacent. He looked at her dreamily. Erathka glared back before rushing past and into the dormitory. She did not look back.

"That's a neat trick."

Erathka nearly ran into Taiquen Roth. He was standing in the shadow between window arches. "Master Taiquen? What are you doing here? Why is everyone up so early today?"

"Everyone? Well, as for myself, I have a dawn meeting with Asovan. I thought I would wait here, out of the cold. As for you... I expect you're returning from a meeting of your own."

He watched her as she worked her jaw. She let out a sigh and flopped against the wall. "I know, I know. The Council wouldn't approve. They always go line by line from those books of theirs. I bet Solosan was the perfect student—she loves that stuff."

Taiquen came and perched on the windowsill next to her, managing to do so while looking dignified. "It sounds like your studies are frustrating you."

"Everything we learn is useless! Geometry, philosophy... and the little ones take to it all like a loon to a lake. Bryer—Captain Bryer—he's the only one who treats me like an adult."

Taiquen raised his eyebrow. "Do not let them destroy your spirit, Erathka. You have greatness in you. The Order must recognize it sooner or later. Besides, you must know there are powers in this world greater than the Order." He paused, fixing her with a stare that felt like ice. "I have seen what you can do. You do not need to play the pawn."

The sun was now running its pink fingers across the walls. Erathka looked down at her hands, forming them into fists. "Don't worry. I won't."

—

Erathka let her stack of books fall to the wooden desk. They threatened to collapse in a jumble of paper. She ignored their teetering and let out a heavy sigh.

Solosan looked up from her work. "It sounds as though you had a hard day's work."

"Not any harder than usual, but it's not over yet," said Erathka, stepping back to survey the tomes. "I have to read these things and write an essay on the history of alchemical symbols by next week. Not the actual mixing of chemicals, oh no—just the symbols."

Solosan frowned. "It's important background, to better understand—"

"At least the sword lessons are useful!"

It was Solosan's turn to sigh. "Come over here. I want to show you something."

She was leaning over a two-tiered contraption. Metal loops held a series of glass disks above a transparent plate, and a series of mirrors bounced light from her lamp up through the whole thing. She placed a drop of murky green liquid on the plate and beckoned Erathka to look through the disks. Erathka raised an eyebrow at her before squinting into the glass.

She gasped. Hundreds of tiny specks of myriad shapes and sizes filled her field of view, dancing erratically. She stood transfixed.

"What is it?"

"It is like a looking glass, but for examining the small rather than the far-away. You are currently watching the tiny creatures that live in sea water." She turned down the lamp until it was nearly dark in the room.

"What are you doing?"

Solosan used a pin to stir the water droplet. "Look again."

The creatures, swirling at the agitation, were now glowing in phosphorescent blues and greens. "They look like stars!"

"Yes, I have always found them to be beautiful. When I was at sea, I saw the waves light up at night. It was as if the stars had fallen from the sky and were being buffeted by the prow of my little craft. I imagined I was sailing through the heavens."

It was quiet for a time while Erathka watched the tiny sea creatures. "This is what gets you through all the tedium of studying, isn't it?" she mused. "The thought that you might find more stars in unlikely places."

Solosan tilted her head. "I never did find it tedious. I know others had their ways of dealing with the abstracted nature of the Order—I know you have yours." Erathka tensed, but Solosan just smiled at her. "For me, the Order has always been enough. It shows me the wonders of the universe, all through little glass lenses and jars of rarified substances. There is something greater than us, Era. Something the binds us together and makes us stronger. If I can share half that faith with you, I will count myself a successful mentor."

Erathka looked back at the droplet, glowing softly on the plate. "Do you think... magic is like that? Just something we haven't looked at closely enough?"

"Do You mean the Ancients?"

"Yeah. They knew things even the Order doesn't know about. More powerful things."

Solosan thought for a moment. "Power is fragile. I suspect the Ancients overestimated their knowledge and lost control over... whatever it is they wrought. It is better to explore the world with measured steps."

Erathka stood. "We don't have time for that! Beauty and knowledge are all well and good, but I'm sick of sitting around. The Merchant Guild is going to attack—we know they are."

"Asovan said—"

"Right, right. Asovan's just full of wisdom." Erathka gathered up her books while Solosan looked on, frozen. "I'd better get to learning this stuff, then, plodding into the unknown."

"Erathka, that's not what I—"

"Good night, Sol. Enjoy your little stars while you can." She started out the door, but looked back at Solosan. Her face softened. "I mean, they are beautiful, Sol. Really."

—

Erathka did not have to wait long to be proven right. Spring arrived, and with the first trade winds, so did the mercenaries.

Bryer was taking his shift as lookout. He saw the ships darken the horizon and pulled the horn from the wall. The bellowing sound of the alarm echoed throughout the a city still waking from a cold dawn.

The militia gathered together, half still trying to scarf down a hurried breakfast. They were quiet but giddy. They had been training with new drills all winter, and they feared and anticipated putting those new skills into practice. Most had not been in a real battle before. They hoped for their chance to be heroes.

Bryer looked at their faces, and spoke to that hope. "We are the protectors of Te'serai," Bryer began, standing on top of a crate. All eyes were fixed on him. "We have trained hard, pledged our lives to ensure that our city stays free. Our city is a beacon of light, shining the bright promise of freedom across the sea. It houses the Order that teaches us all. It binds together hundreds of peoples through trade. But more than that to us—it is our home. It is our home, where we make our lives count for something. And it is our home, where we will stand and fight." He raised a fist high into the air. "For our families! For our comrades! For Te'serai!" Cheers rose up to fill the terrace.

The cheers were cut short by a sudden thunk. A nearby roof blossomed into flame. "Inver! Gather a citizen brigade to put out the fires," Bryer commanded. "They won't lay siege to Te'serai this day. Everyone ready? To your squadrons!"

Dozens more roofs were on fire within minutes. When the militia got to the harbor, patrol ships were burning and sinking into the sea. Meanwhile the mercenary ships were attempting to make landfall. Bryer blew the horn again and half a dozen squadrons ran to the landing sites. He meant to hem them in.

The mercenaries who were already on the ground kept close to their ships. They fought defensively while their archers had free reign to do damage. Volley after volley of pitched arrows shot into the city, lighting up the sky. Inver's brigade kept the blaze, with the entire citizenry coming to help—men, women, and children carried their kettles and bathwater to put out the flames. The militia tightened their ranks and pressed the mercenaries into the lapping waves.

Kelthor watched and waited for the opportune moment. She was dressed in her favorite dark leather, every inch of her armed. She held her arm up until she saw the opening she was looking for. With the drop of her hand, her gang followed her off prow of the farthest ship and leapt into the shallow water. They waded to shore like black herons.

One squadron caught sight of them and split from the main force. They approached Kelthor from two sides, ready to trap her in the middle. Her axe gutted two militiamen in one sweep. The rest of the squadron backed away, tried to re-group to meet her head-on. The band rushed through the shrinking gap, slicing through. Now it was the squadron that was penned in. Kelthor's gang swung around to hack it to pieces.

—

Solosan stepped into the dormitory. Erathka stood with her back to the doorway, her sword and uniform arrayed on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Solosan said. Erathka whipped her head around.

"Nothing! I mean, I was just—look, I know Asovan said we should stay to secure the Temple, but it just seems wrong."

"I am in full agreement." Solosan drew her sword. "'Tend to the roots, or the leaves will wither.' I do not plan on leaving Te'serai to the kindness of mercenaries."

"Really? But Asovan..." Erathka's eyes were wide. "In that case, just let me get this blasted scabbard on. I'm with you." Erathka changed quickly. Under her breath she muttered, "Naturally I'd have been ready sooner I'd've known you'd be breaking the rules too this time."

They could see smoke billowing from the harbor as the flames outpaced the water brigades. As soon as Solosan and Erathka were out from the shadow of the Council Chamber, they ran down the hill and out the gate.

The city was full of screams and smoke. People were running, frightened, all over the place, trying to get out of the burning buildings and away from the rampaging mercenaries. It was chaos. Solosan and Erathka stumbled through, searching for militiamen. Those they did see were scattered in twos and threes, as lost in the battle as they were.

They caught sight of Kelthor's gang ahead. That group, at least, was well-coordinated. They stayed in tight formation and hunted down the scattered militiamen with ruthless efficiency. They tore apart everything and everyone who stood in their way.

Solosan and Erathka ducked into an alley. Erathka put her finger to her lips, and Solosan nodded agreement. Erathka jumped out just as the mercenaries passed by. She stabbed one in the spine. Before he hit the cobblestone, she had disappeared into the shadows again.

The other mercenaries tightened ranks, adjusting to an unknown enemy. Erathka came at them again and took one down without getting a scratch in return, before they could converge on her.

Kelthor growled and pulled her hand across her throat to quiet the growing panic of her men. "I know you're out there, little scum," she called out. "Come out and play!"

It was Solosan who stepped out. Her unsheathed sword gleamed white in the sunlight.

"Ah, it's you again. I suggest you pray to your nonexistent gods before you _die_." With that, Kelthor rushed at her.

Solosan's blade met Kelthor's axe with a resounding clang. Kelthor hooked the sword with the back curve of her axe. With a yank, she ripped it out of Solosan's hands. Kelthor bared her shark-like teeth. But Solosan was already stepping past and behind her. As Kelthor began to turn, she stopped cold. She could feel the keen edge of Solosan's knife at her throat.

"Tell your men to stand down," Solosan whispered in her ear.

"Do you really think they care what happens to me?"

"Yes. I do."

The mercenaries started. Erathka emerged from behind them, her sword dripping in their blood. Slowly, they lowered their weapons to the ground.

A horn sounded somewhere nearby. It was joined by others. Across the city, the militia were regrouping. The squadrons swept through the streets and drove the other mercenaries back to the shore. The ships raised anchor even before all their own people were on board.

"Cowards," Erathka said, watching the action below as they marched their captives along the terraces towards the Armory.

"Yet we are not dead," Kelthor said, her head high and nostrils flared.

The mercenary army retreated to the entrance of the harbor, licking its wounds.

—

Bryer found Solosan and Erathka as he led his squadron back to headquarters. His face lit up at the sight of them. He nearly ran to embrace Erathka, but she gave a quick shake of her head. A Knight's apprentice. He remembered the propriety of daytime.

"Knights!" he said instead. "And here I thought the Order had abandoned us."

"'The true Knight never abandons those in need,'" Erathka intoned. Solosan looked proud.

"Indeed. And we have secured some prisoners of war for you," she said, gesturing to the mercenaries who stood sullenly by the edge of the terrace. She jerked Kelthor forward by her bound hands. "I believe this one in particular was giving you trouble."

"She would have seen us all in a bloody heap. Very nearly did." Bryer gestured one of his men to take Kelthor into custody.

The militiaman took hold of Kelthor's arm. She grinned at him with all her shark's teeth. There was a loud cracking sound, and her wrists twisted out of the rope. One of them dangled limp and the other grabbed the militiaman's sword from its sheath. He blinked at her in shock. The sword drew a wide arc, traced in red. She finished that single motion with a dive off the building. She landed like a cat and disappeared through the streets.

They all went after her at once, Bryer faster than any of them. But he staggered before he had taken two steps.

Something was wrong.

Erathka skidded, watching as he collapsed Time slowed to a crawl. Crimson droplets seemed to be suspended in the air, sluggish as they followed his descent.

Erathka ran to him. Blood was pooling on the ground. He lay in the middle of it, spasming. She knelt in the pool and pulled him onto her lap. "Bryer—"

"Erathka?"

"It's me, Bryer. Don't worry. I won't let you go. Sol will go get help."

Solosan stood rooted the spot. She motioned to the remaining militiamen to go instead—the ones who weren't already running headlong after Kelthor.

"Go after her!" Bryer gasped. "The prisoner, we have to finish this—"

"We've won the day, Bryer. _You've_ won. Te'serai is safe. Thanks to you."

"No, it's not! It's not safe. Never safe. You have to—you have to be a real Knight." He struggled for breath. "You can do that now. Be a big damn hero."

"Hold on, Bryer. The Order can save you. They have... they have books. They'll know what to do."

Bryer cried out in pain and started shaking.

Erathka gripped his shoulders, not daring to let go, not knowing what to do. "Bryer, wait—they promised, Bryer... it'll be okay."

Erathka looked around, plaintive. Nothing came into focus. Not the militiaman standing around her, unmoving, not Solosan reaching out to her.

She clung to Bryer. He was convulsing. Red foam formed at his mouth, and his eyes rolled back into whiteness. She hugged him closer.

And she spoke her word of silence.

Bryer went still. He looked up into Erathka's face, half a smile forming on his own. Then he let out a long, slow, shuddering sigh, and slipped far, far away.

It was a small eternity before the sounds returned. No one was listening.

—

The Council Chamber was empty for the most part. All the younger council members were away in the outer provinces. Solosan perched in the chair farthest from Asovan, surprised at its hardness, but just as glad to be suffering for her promotion.

Taiquen was in the center and commanding everyone's attention with his account of the situation. "Most of the Knights are too far to return before the mercenaries begin their second attack. Believe me. They are not finished with us."

Asovan shifted. "But the militia—"

"The militia are brave and efficient, yes. They will fight to the last man and woman before abandoning Te'serai." Taiquen gestured toward the old Councilmaster. "Or the Temple. But it will come to that, and even then it will not be enough. We have lost so many of our best people."

Solosan glanced at Erathka, who stood by the door. Her face was in darkness. The rest of the room was tense.

Taiquen continued, "There is only one road to follow now. You were afraid to take it before, but now all other doors are sealed with clotted blood."

Solosan spoke up. "You mean the magic that the Ancients used to destroy themselves?" She thought she sounded small in that echoing room, but she built as much strength into her voice as possible. "The Merchant Guild hopes only to avoid tariffs and trade regulations. Would they not call off their dogs if the Order offered them concessions? If we but showed ourselves willing to compromise? We need not fight a war when peace is still possible."

"You think it is so simple as that? You think the Merchant Guild attack and the farmer rebellion are unrelated? I do not imply a conspiracy here, only a root cause: the Order has shown itself to be weak," Taiquen snarled. "And that is when the wolves attack."

The councilmembers flinched.

Solosan's face grew hot. She bowed her head and took in a deep breath. "It is the warmonger who calls a peaceful kingdom weak, Master Taiquen." She stood, still looking at the floor. "It requires greater strength than you will ever know to admit that you are wrong and to back down."

Erathka seethed, glaring at Solosan. "Oh? Is that what you have to say, Sol? What about the dead, then?" Her eyes were red and her shoulders set. "What did they die for if the Order was just going to give up? They deserve more than that. They deserve revenge."

Asovan pitched his fingers. "Revenge is not the way of the Order, Apprentice Erathka. Consider your feelings, and act with thought. Sirrah Solosan is right. If unity is to be preserved, we must at least try to negotiate."

He summoned a messenger. "Hail the mercenary ships and ask for a representative of the Merchant Guild." They sat in uncomfortable silence within Erathka's baleful aura, awaiting the Guild's reply.

—

For nearly two hours an air of anxiety built in the Council Chamber. The councilmembers brooded in their chairs. Erathka returned to her wall, refusing to look at anyone. Taiquen stood at attention in the center of the room without wavering.

At last the tension broke. A high trumpet call, then the echoing footfalls of people mounting the tower stairs. The messenger had returned. She opened the chamber doors and bowed entrance for the Merchant Guild representative, striding in at her heels.

It was Kelthor.

Erathka tightened like a spring. Solosan grabbed her before she could strike, pinning her arms behind her until she stopped flailing. She loosened her grip and Erathka sagged with an audible moan.

Kelthor smirked. "I'm glad to see you've trained your dog."

Erathka spun around, out of Solosan's grasp, and stormed out. She did not look back.

Kelthor shrugged and turned to Asovan. "So, Councilmaster. I understand you'd like to beg the forgiveness of the Merchant Guild."

Asovan looked disapproving, but he swept his hands open. "We would like to make a generous offer they may be inclined to accept." He handed her a sealed roll of parchment. "Lower tariffs, exclusive trade opportunities, discounts on Order technologies. Everything they hoped to gain before this foolish endeavor."

"An interesting offer, Asovan," she said, taking the roll. "Let me relay that to the Guildmasters. I'll notify you of their response." The messenger stepped forward, but Kelthor put up her hand. "No, no, my own messenger will be just perfect for this task. And much quicker, too."

 

Kelthor was as quick as she promised. From the vantage point of the Council Chamber windows, the Council observed the Merchant Guild's response to their offer. The mercenary ships swept once more into the harbor. Flaming arrows were already seeking out the heart of Te'serai.

Asovan removed his glasses and looked to the mayor. "Master Taiquen," he said. "Please begin your preparations."

"As you wish, Councilmaster." Taiquen's thin lips curled at the edges.

—

Taiquen knelt in the center of the Council Chamber. The room was full of a palpable quiet that made Asovan uncomfortable. He had asked the other councilmembers to leave, and now, in Taiquen's presence, he felt utterly alone. He almost said something, but he noticed Taiquen's mouth was already moving. He was mumbling softly into the stone floor. So softly Asovan could not make out a single word. Yet he was sure the words were foreign.

Oh. That was why it felt so strange. He could not hear his own breathing.

The shadows in the room began to stir. Like a growing stain, they spread across the floor. They oozed out of the stone seams and climbed the walls until the entire chamber appeared to be cloaked in night. Throughout Te'serai, something like shadow bubbled up through the earth and the cobbles and the wood. It formed lumped shapes, vaguely humanoid when they unfolded. They began gliding towards the harbor. They moved effortlessly through walls. They floated across the water like darkened wisps of morning mist. They collected around the attacking ships and the mercenaries who were already ashore.

Without resistance, the shadowstuff passed through skin and bone, through to the fast-beating hearts of the mercenary soldiers. Without a thought and to a man, those hearts came to a stop.

—

Almost to a man. Kelthor was running. She had a bad feeling about those shadows. Her instincts had kept her alive this long, and she acted on them without hesitation. Seeking high ground, dodging the shadows that appeared without warning from the sides of buildings, she found herself on a rooftop garden. It was weedy and unkempt, with a view of her ships adrift in the harbor.

Kelthor felt a dull pang in her gut. She would have to start from nothing. Again.

She noticed someone else was at the terrace edge. That hot-headed scrapper, Erathka. She was watching the destruction of the mercenaries below with dark satisfaction. When Kelthor approached, she turned around. Then she looked over Kelthor's shoulder and grinned.

Kelthor started to turn. But before she could finish the motion, Erathka said something. A word of silence. It pinned her to the spot. Everything that was frantic became slow. Everything that was panic became calm. And everything that was the heat of fear and battle became deadly cold. Shadows seeped through her like a slow shiver. Some small part of her mind remembered that it should be terrified.

She collapsed. Her skin was pale and veined, and a dark fluid was running from her nose and the corners of her still-wide eyes. She lay sprawled on the ground and knew no more.

—

The Shadow stopped in front of Erathka. It tilted its head to the side, then turned and left. Erathka glanced at Kelthor's body. It was time to congratulate the Council on their victory.

—

Solosan needed to find Erathka. To warn her. The Shadows were some kind of dangerous magic, and she had no idea what they would do even to their allies. Erathka had mentioned a place before... a hidden and abandoned place of wild roses at the crown of the city.

A good place to be alone.

Somehow she managed to find it. Erathka was no there, only Kelthor's dead body surrounded by a halo of blighted grass. Solosan backed away.

—

The mercenary's unfired arrows fell to the decks along with their archers. Asovan watched from the window as the their ships caught fire. He moved to thank Taiquen for saving them all, but his words stuck in his throat. There was no magic this time, only Taiquen smiling too broadly, his eyes uncreased. Taiquen spoke again in that silent tongue, and when Asovan looked back out the window, he grew pale. The army of Shadows turned around and started moving towards the Temple.

He put on his spectacles and could just make out the militia. Tiny specks by the harbor, hesitating in confusion. The militia tried to engage the Shadow army, but there was no stopping them. The militia fell in their wake.

Taiquen's first strike came out of thin air. Asovan leapt away and toward his sword, with a speed beyond his age. Taiquen held a pair of long daggers. Where had those come from? Where they struck his seat, the varnished wood split with cloud of dark dust.

"You betray us?" Asovan deflected the next attack, maneuvering to more central position.

"The Order has already failed," said Taiquen, shifting his weight, "You're just too foolish to see the truth." He stabbed, and Asovan parried.

"Then die!"

They traded heavy and tense blows. Taiquen turned the furniture to rubble with his daggers, throwing pieces of stone and wood. Asovan would not be tripped up. He was spry even in his old age.

Taiquen stabbed the floor itself. The tiles buckled, a yawning crack splitting the ground under Asovan's feet. Asovan ran forward while Taiquen's daggers were still stuck in stone, and pinned him to the wall. His sword hovered over Taiquen's gut.

The door to the Council Chamber opened behind him. He dared not turn around, but he knew it was Erathka.

Her elation evaporated in an instant. Her feet flew over the rubble and broken floor. Asovan swiveled. She grabbed his arm before he could act.

"Stop! What are you doing, Councilmaster?"

"Let me go. The bastard's mine," he spat. He struggled, and shoved her against one of windows.

She used his force against him and twisted free. The momentum carried him backwards. His eyes widened as the glass shattered, and his arms waved for balance. But he was already falling. His body crashed through the pane and tumbled through the air, surrounded by shards of colorful glass. He fell and fell.

It felt like eternity.

—

Beyond the Temple walls, the fires of the mercenary battle were taking hold of the city. They filled the air with ash and embers.

Taiquen lifted himself from the wall with visible effort. "Thank you," he said.

Erathka tore her eyes from the scene on the ground. She turned to Taiquen, and saw blood leaking between his fingers as he clutched his side. "I summoned the Shadow Army, Erathka. It worked. Did you see it? Magnificent!"

"Yeah, I did."

"Asovan... He tried to take control of it. You mustn't feel bad for what you've done. Asovan had the Council in his pocket, and he's been poisoning the Order for a long time." Taiquen met Erathka's eyes. "Now we need to finish the job. We need to root out the last of Asovan's evil. I have control of the Shadows again, but—" he stopped mid-sentence, wincing.

Erathka hesitated. "What do you want me to do?"

"Open the Temple gates. The Shadows can't get past the metal wall," he said. He smiled to himself. "It's almost as if the old fools who built it knew what they were doing."

Erathka looked out the hole in the wall. What scene had that window depicted again? Loyalty?

There were shouts and sobs from below.

"Erathka. You must trust me." He reached out to her. "I'm depending on you now. We're all depending on you."

—

Erathka stood at the wall, ran her hands along its cool cladding. Her fingers found the gate lever, and she hesitated. Swallowed. The treetops rustled above her, whispering something she couldn't quite hear. But she wasn't going to be a coward now. She wasn't going to back down in the face of danger.

She cranked the lever hard. The creaking resonated across the whole wall.

The Shadows oozed through the first gap and glided free as it widened. Soon they flowed through by the dozen. Flames from the growing inferno licked at their backs as they ascended the hill, a silent and solemn force. Erathka followed.

A crowd had formed around Asovan's body. The Knights panicked at the Shadows' approach. They drew their swords. It was useless, though. All were overtaken.

Councilmember or apprentice, the Shadows made no distinction. All crumpled to the ground.

Erathka stared. She wanted to shoutout, but her throat was dry and nothing came. The Shadows ignored her.

She thought to warn someone, anyone. She ran through the halls, up and down the stairs, across the bridges—but they were empty.

She came to a classroom. There had been classes today, of course! Yes, the children were all in their seats. Slumped over and unmoving.

A trace of shade whispered through the stone wall.

Erathka dug her fingers into her palms. She found herself back to the Council Chamber. She hardly remembered getting there, only that Taiquen was now sitting in Asovan's chair. There was a crack going through the middle and reaching all the way up to the wall, and still the most intact thing in the room. The way Taiquen sat in it, it could have been a gilded throne.

Erathka stood at the entrance doors, facing him across the gash that used to be the middle of the floor. "They're killing children. Innocent children, Taiquen! You said you were in control."

Taiquen's expression contorted. "Innocent? No, no... not innocent." He shook his head. "The Council has long stolen the most promising children of Serai. They took them from their communities and imprisoned them here in the Temple. They have been brainwashed to serve the Order. How else could the Council maintain their power? Their loss is regrettable, yes. But it is necessary. Try to understand."

Shadows entered the Chamber as he spoke. They brushed against Erathka's skin as they passed, soft as lovers, chilling her to the bone. They gathered around Taiquen and stood there, undulating, sucking all remaining brightness from the room until it fell into twilight.

—

Solosan stood on the terrace. Behind her, down the hill, the fire in the grove was catching. Soon the entire hill would become a pyre. She stared at the destruction around her and wandered in a daze. Fallen Knights, fallen friends, everywhere.

Then she found Asovan. She reached out a trembling hand to brush away bits of glass from his shattered face. His spectacles were somehow intact. She removed them, held them against her tunic.

Erathka stood a ways off, at the base of the Council Chamber tower.

"Era—You're alive, thank the stars!"

"The Order has fallen," Erathka said.

Solosan straightened. "Taiquen must have lost control of the Shadows. I told him not to touch that magic. They turned against us, they..." she trailed off.

Erathka's face reddened. "Taiquen didn't lose control. He's doing what's necessary, what should've been done a long time ago."

Solosan stared at Erathka.

"He says it's time to rebuild, to make something better than the Order ever was." She took a step towards Solosan, but Solosan backed away. "Sol, join me! Join us! If we follow Taiquen and learn what he knows, we can do anything."

"Join with Taiquen?" Solosan grabbed Erathka's shoulders. "Era, how can you consider working with that madman? He murdered Asovan!"

Erathka jerked out of Solosan's grip. "You think he's mad? You think he's a murderer? You pretend to be honest, Sol, you and the rest of the Order. You've been manipulating me the whole time. If you really think the Order's strong and just, then you're stupid. It's weak and it's corrupt." Her voice rose and filled with vitriol. "And now it's dead."

"Era!"

"Taiquen was right—they deserved to die. They were a bunch of slouching cowards, holding everyone back. Even you, begging them not to use the one weapon that could have stopped all this from happening. And you know what else?" Erathka knocked the spectacles out of Solosan's hands. She stepped on them where they landed on the stone, and they crunched underfoot. " _I_ murdered Asovan."

Solosan drew back. Her face hardened. "No. No..."

Erathka lashed out with her sword. Solosan drew hers straight into a block. Their swords locked, the metal shrieking. Then they pushed off each other's blades and clashed again. They drove each other into the forest, where the fire was consuming its way into an inferno.

Beads of sweat formed in the heat. Ash swirled around their blades. They drove furious lunges at each other. A great booming crack sounded overhead. Solosan looked up, and Erathka kicked her hard. She fell in the understory. She rolled just out of the way as a massive tree came crashing down. It landed hard, shaking the ground and showering her with sparks.

She struggled to her feet and surveyed the damage. Where was Erathka? All her fury turned to fear.

Erathka lay prone, her foot pinned under the tree. The branches and leaves burned fast, turning into towering flames. The fire was pressing in close. Erathka was trying to pull herself free, coughing against the roiling smoke.

For a moment the air between them cleared. Erathka reached out.

Solosan tried to move. She did. But she couldn't bring herself to go any closer to Erathka. Those dark eyes, catching the blue-orange light of the fire reflected her mentor, her friends... her family. She stared into Erathka's eyes, trying to summon them back to life. She stared until the fallen tree exploded in flames. Solosan shook herself, but it was too late—she could no longer see Erathka. She could not get to her. As the flames threatened to engulf her, too, she turned and stumbled towards the gate.


	3. Chapter 3

Solosan contemplated her tin of water. She took a sip—it tasted like sweat. She tried to ignore the half-whispered conversation around her, in the half-dark bar. But listening to her own thoughts was worse.

"I heard they was wiped out," said a deep voice.

"That can't be right," replied a voice much higher in pitch. "There were dozens of ships, hundreds of mercenaries. Hellfire, even Kelthor's gang was there."

"Yeah, and the Shadow Army took 'er too, straight to hell."

"You think these Shadows were..." the high voice gulped, "demons?"

Solosan shook her head, jaw clenched.

Someone sat down next to her. She was about to tell them to leave her alone, but she realized that she knew the man.

"Drake?"

"Sirrah Sol. I didn't expect to find you in a bar, much less in Gurdh. In fact," he settled himself at his stool and took a swig of some dark ale. "I rather thought I'd find you dead."

"I am not much better."

Drake spoke almost in a whisper. "Sirrah, what happened out there in Te'serai? The rumors are flying—the Order in shatters, war about to break out in half the Ten Kingdoms. Business is awful," he added.

Solosan glared. "Ah, yes, I almost forgot you were a scoundrel who only cares about his pirating."

He shrugged. "What, can't I use a little dark humor to lighten the mood?"

"Do you know, I had hopes you might be a redeemable person under all your posturing, Drake." Her mouth widened in what should have been a grin. "Or should I refer to you as Sirrah Excelsior?"

Drake choked on his drink. "How did you—?"

"A sword like mine is worth far more than a month of supplies, yet you returned it to me. Why? I had a hypothesis, and it only took an evening's research in the Order's records to confirm it."

They stared at the hard-beaten table in silence for long minutes. Solosan sighed and started to leave.

"I returned home after I finished my apprenticeship," Drake said. Solosan sat back down. "I never stopped thinking of it as home, you know. Even years after I was taken." He took a drink. "I bet you had it nice and easy. You were probably one of the ones who wanted to be in the Order. Just forgot about the good folks who raised you."

Solosan looked away.

"Not me. I love them more than anything. I snuck out letters, even when I never heard anything back. Finally I got through my apprenticeship, and I couldn't wait to see them again. I practiced my stories the whole way there.

"But you know what? My family had died of Parssian flu. Half the village was gone. Nobody had even bothered to tell me they were sick. When I got home, there were just a bunch of empty buildings. Oh, and some Knights trying to do experimental farming on their graves." Drake's closed his eyes. "Now you know. 'Knowledge is the truest blade.'"

"Do not quote parables at me," Solosan snapped. "I do not know... I do not think the Order is what I believed it to be. I was part of it, willfully blind to its darkest corners. And now that the harsh light of truth has been cast upon it... now there is something much worse." She waited to Drake to say something. But he didn't speak. He didn't even open his eyes. "Taiquen Roth has control of some powerful magic. What befell Te'serai cannot be allowed to happen anywhere else. Listen to me, Drake. He will stop with the destruction of one city and the overthrow of the Order."

"You mean to stop him."

"Yes. He said he learned his power from a city across the sea. A city of the Ancients. If I can find this place, I may be able to find a way to counteract his army of shadows."

"You're willing to entertain myth? Superstition?"

"When there is evidence, it is not mere myth."

Drake studied her. "Okay. There are rumors, of a scar in the desert. A cursed ruin. If you're willing to entertain pirates' tales, it might be what you're looking for."

"And you know where it is?"

Drake laughed. It was the truest laugh Solosan had heard in weeks. "It's a fool's errand, but I excel at playing the fool. And a legendary city is bound to be full of priceless artifacts to make it worth my while. What do you say? Are you willing to align yourself with a scoundrel, Sirrah?"

"Do not call me that. When all is said and done, I am no better than you."

"To scoundrels, then," Drake said, raising his drink.

"No. To the ones we've left behind."

Solosan clinked her cup against his, and finished her over-salty water.

—

Erathka blinked in and out of unbearable consciousness. Every moment of wakefulness was born in a pain so maddening that it overwhelmed her. Her mind collapsed in on itself.

She was aware of Taiquen Roth carrying her into the Council Chamber. He lay her down on stones held together by splintered sinews of wood. The edges of the floor were carved in runes, encircling her.

Taiquen began to speak in the Ancients' tongue. Shadows crept in tendrils through the floor and across Erathka's burned, broken body. They felt cool, and where they touched her, the burns stopped their screaming pain. The tendrils bound her, pulled her up like strings, and covered her flesh like a second skin.

Taiquen stopped speaking and Erathka opened her eyes. Everything was monochromatic and shining, as if someone had thrown water over the entire room. Inside she felt calm and empty. She tried a tentative breath to see if the pain was well and truly gone, but found that the air was unnecessary. She tried to blink, but her sight was unwavering. The shadow-skin undulated in invisible waves. The world felt alive under her enveloped fingertips.

"Erathka. I once told you there were powers greater than the Order," Taiquen said as sat on his throne. He leaned down to her and whispered, "Now you are one of them."

—

The city of the Ancients was built into a canyon. It stretched for miles across the desert, cutting into the rock like a jagged wound. Finely carved passageways wound throughout, a little too large and oblique for Solosan to feel comfortable in them. As if the stone might shift when she wasn't looking.

Every surface was covered in runes and glyphs. Dense blocks of abstract shapes, communicating stories or knowledge or she knew not what. Almost nothing of their language survived. Whatever there was, Solosan had studied at the Temple library. Something Erathka had said when they first met...

Solosan shook her head clear and tried to focus. Some of the rune arrangements implied scenes. Scenes that kept recurring throughout the tunnels. She copied as much as she could onto her sheaf of parchment.

"It looks like they're screaming," said Drake, running his fingers along some of the carvings.

"We cannot be sure those are human figures."

"If you say so." Drake pried loose a handful of small gems that decorated the wall, and held them up to the torch. They absorbed the light. "We're running low on supplies. These babies won't buy us any food out here in the middle of nowhere. Is any of this starting to make sense to you?"

Solosan examined a particular sequence of runes with a handheld lens. They kept repeating, their long strokes inlaid with black volcanic glass that scattered the lamplight. She mouthed the pronunciation, character by character.

Something clicked into place.

"Drake—I believe I know what I need to do."

—

Ytris was a small farming village in the outer provinces. It was set in pastoral, rolling hills dotted with orchards. The town itself was a cluster of round buildings covered in colorful fabrics. Erathka arrived after three unbroken days of marching. The Shadow Army followed, equally tireless.

She felt less human day by day. Her emotions distant and the world unreal, so very delicate. It seemed like she might tear it apart without thinking.

A Knight came out to meet her. It was Sirrah Corval, looking haggard. The townspeople quaked behind him even as he kept up his posture. Erathka noted that he was just as afraid as they were, underneath.

"Just what do you think you're doing here, demon?" he demanded.

He hadn't recognized her, then. Just as well. Erathka ignored him. She spoke to the villagers instead, her voice carrying to the far reaches of the crowd.

"You are now citizens of the new Empire of Serai," she said, "Under the generous rule of Emperor Taiquen Roth. Rejoice. The Order no longer controls your seeds, your harvests, or your children." She paused. "But if any should continue to harbor loyalty to the Order—"

Erathka cut Corval down in a single stroke. She felt the Knight's body drag uncomfortably against the blade. The villagers flinched and cowered.

"—know that Erathka has no mercy left."

—

Solosan stepped onto the dock and looked upon the ruins of Te'serai. It was badly burned, and what had been re-built in its place during her weeks of absence was a flimsy pile of lean-tos and tents. It was crowded but without any of the vibrant energy she remembered. Whole families of refugees huddled together on street corners. Many of them did not look like they were even from Te'serai. She recognized features and clothes from distant provinces and neighboring kingdoms.

Taiquen had already begun to conquer himself an empire.

Drake slung a bulky bag across his shoulders. "That customs guy back there was too terrified to even take a bribe."

Solosan shot him a look. "I do not think knocking him unconscious was strictly necessary."

"Ah, you know me, Sol. I like to go above and beyond the call of duty."

They walked through the alleyways, picking their way through rubble and garbage. Solosan was still adjusting to her new clothes. They were thin and scratchy, but they didn't mark her as a Knight of the Order. Word was that Taiquen meant to exterminate every last Knight in existence.

It was better not to pretend to be something she no longer was.

They were about to turn onto a main street when Drake pulled Solosan back around the corner. Shadows. There were hundreds of them, moving in eery silence. Solosan and Drake stood motionless while they passed. In front marched a woman in a cloak.

Solosan stared after her. She gasped in recognition. "It's Era!"

"Shh," Drake hissed. "You'll get us killed."

"Era is still alive..."

"That thing in the lead? It's not even human."

"Nonetheless. Somehow, it's her. I know it"

"Do you still want to do this?"

She glanced at sky, the colors of sunset growing vibrant. "We are the only ones who can stop this now."

—

Drake opened the bag and handed Solosan her sword. After affixing his own to his belt, he pulled out a grappling hook with an extra long rope. Solosan stood back as he spun it in wide arcs and tossed it just over the top of the Temple wall.

"Impressive," said Solosan.

"And that's why they call me Captain Drake Excelsior! Hey, wait up."

Solosan was already scaling the wall. Soon they were both up and over. Solosan took in the scorched earth, the charcoal-black corpses of fallen trees. A few even still glowed with dying embers. They crept to the Temple, avoiding the patrols of Shadow guards and the odd militiaman.

"I guess some of them stayed loyal to Taiquen," noted Drake. "Smart, if valued their lives."

The Temple was transformed into a fortress. Some of the buildings had collapsed and been shifted to form barricades around the main plaza. The walls were blackened with blast marks and soot. Solosan and Drake waited for an opening, and ran to a new hiding place near the Council Chamber tower.

Someone spotted them. A keen-eyed militiaman called out, and his comrades were on them in seconds.

Drake drew his sword. "I'll hold them off—You find Taiquen!"

Solosan hesitated. The militiaman caught Drake the leg almost at once. It was glancing. Drake danced around his opponent. A second later the militiaman was disarmed. Drake held both swords and grinned at her. She nodded to him and ran as fast as she could to the tower.

—

Solosan stood at the door, catching her breath. She gripped her sword and pushed her way in.

The room was nearly empty. Slivers of moonlight came through what was left of the windows, illuminating the lurking presence of Taiquen Roth. He sat, head cocked, intent on her. His eyes were reflective as a cat's. Solosan strode forward. She almost fell through the gash in the floor, but she stopped at the edge.

She pushed the thoughts and fears from her mind. From her mouth came words of the Ancients' tongue. The air felt as if it were evacuating her lungs as she spoke, but she pushed forward. Sounds dampened and dissipated around her. Taiquen's eyes widened, and he started from his chair. He looked like he was about to say something, to interrupt, but he stopped.

There was a concussion as the void collapsed. Erathka stepped out from the shadows, her cloak billowing in strange winds. Her skin was hollow, and her eyes, without pupils, fixed on Solosan. A smile crept across Taiquen's lips.

She attacked. Solosan was pushed back by Erathka's inhuman strength. Erathka's lightning-fast blade nearly cut Solosan's in two. Solosan leapt to her feet again and skirted the perimeter, Erathka stalking her. She ended up back against a pile of rubble. Erathka stuck again, and Solosan felt a wet sting along her side. She clutched the wound and swung her sword, just keeping Erathka at bay.

Erathka watched her as if she were watching a fly land on a windowsill. She raised her sword for a final blow. As it descended, Solosan rolled backwards. The blow sliced into the rubble. Solosan, still in a crouch, clamped Erathka's sword down with her own blade. Erathka tried to pull it free, and the weapons sparking under the tension. Solosan threw her entire weight onto the hilt to keep Erathka's blade trapped.

Erathka looked between the sword and Solosan. She let go of the hilt. Her hand raised toward Solosan, her arm elongating and deforming. It stretched across the distance between them. The shadowskin melted into Solosan's chest and seeped through her clothes and her skin. She could feel the fingers continuing on through her flesh, reaching around her heart, encircling it, drawing in...

Solosan said a different word of silence. It somehow familiar and comforting. Erathka knew it well, a trick to get her out of trouble. And now Solosan knew it, too.

"My friend," she said, in the language of the Ancients.

And Erathka was still.

Solosan drew her sword cleanly through Erathka's arm. The shadowskin exploded spasmodically, dissipating from her chest. Erathka recoiled with an inhuman howl.

Solosan gasped for breath. She turned and started her spell again. She tried to speak the words that would stop him. With each syllable, she advanced towards him, her sword aimed at his heart.

This time he was ready for her. He rose from his seat and drew his daggers. Quicker than she could see, he came at her and cut her sword in two. A fine trail of dust spiraled in the wake of his blades. Then he dropped the daggers and grabbed her throat. She tried to pry off his hands and kick at him, but he only held on tighter. Choking her.

He picked her up by her neck and dangled her over the hole. The world began to darken around her. And out of the corner of one eye, she saw Erathka, halfway prone, watching.

Erathka looked from one to the other. She cradled the stump of her arm, its shadow-form still writhing. All this struggle—it was futile, meaningless. Yet there was something she had to do. She got to her feet. Never taking her eyes off Solosan and Taiquen, she strode across the room. She held her sword, contemplating.

Then she plunged it into Taiquen's spine.

Taiquen dropped Solosan at once. Solosan caught the edge with her fingertips before she fell. She dangled, watching Taiquen sag onto Erathka's blade. Blood gurgled from his mouth and his eyes went wide and dull.

Solosan pulled herself up and knelt on the floor, sucking in painful breaths. When she looked up, Erathka shook Taiquen body from her sword and stared at her. All around them, Shadows were rising through the floor and phasing in through the walls. They pressed closer.

"Finish it," Erathka said. Her voice sounded far, far away.

Solosan swallowed hard. She stood amongst the gathering shades and began again. In their own language she told the story of the Ancients' rise and fall, the spell that would send the Shadows back to the nowhere they came from. In that vibrant silence, the shadows lost all cohesion. They melted into faded stains upon the ground, afterimages of people long forgotten.

Erathka staggered. Solosan caught her as she fell, the shadowskin dripping off, revealing Erathka's burned and scarred skin.

Erathka gasped. "My friend," she said. It was not the Ancients' word, but her own.

Solosan held her as she slipped away, and sobbed into the empty room.

—

Solosan focused on the rigging in front of her. She moved gingerly so as not to upset the bandages around her waist. She tried not to let her mind wander. Meditation was difficult.

"Going so soon?" Drake limped down the dock to where she was prepping her sailboat.

"Yes. My wounds will heal just as well on the sea. 'Fresh air is the best tonic for a weary soul.'"

"Parables again?" He leaned against the topside and the boat wobbled. Solosan glowered. "You're the only Knight of the Order left, Sol. I'm sorry to bring it up, but you're the last person who knows how to run this kingdom. If you go, we'll lose all of that."

"We? I thought you were a pirate. Since when do you care if there is chaos?"

Drake shrugged. "Since when do you care so little?"

She sighed and stepped off of the rigging. "I once assumed I knew how things worked, that I could tell people how to live. That is no longer something I can do. You have a blank slate here, so try something new. Maybe this time it will work out for everyone."

"Yes. I'm sure we'll find a thoroughly new way to botch things up."

"In that, I have every confidence." Solosan smiled. It felt good.

He laughed without bitterness. "Fine. You'd make a terrible leader, anyhow. Where will you go, then?"

Solosan looked out across the seamless sea and sky.

A wind stirred, beckoning.

—

THE END


End file.
